Epoch - Book 1: We Shall Not All Sleep, But We Shall All Be Changed
by miekhead
Summary: What if the use of Magellan's astrolabe was just a way to slow down the inevitable 'end of the world? Artie Nielsen makes the biggest decision of his ending life to give his family a new chance. AU story with all characters of the show at least featured once.
1. Prologue

**Epoch**

_**Book 1**__: _

_We Shall Not All Sleep, But We Shall All Be Changed_

"Do not be afraid; our fate  
Cannot be taken from us; it is a gift."  
― Dante Alighieri, _Inferno_

**Prologue**

It didn't get destroyed, but oh how Arthur Nielsen wished it did.

As he lay dying, the warehouse in ruins around him, his lower half lying approximately five feet away from the rest of him, he wondered how long it should have taken for the world to crumble.

He'd done the astrolabe malarkey already, used Ferdinand Magellan's artifact to change the world. To bring the Warehouse back... to bring back Mrs. Frederic. Helena.

But that hadn't worked well enough, had it? He'd gone mad. Of course, he'd brought them back, but at what cost? Leena? The Warehouse? Hope.

Yet again the world had lost it, as Pandora's box came undone in the blast. It wasn't Sykes this time, oh no.

But it was just another child, all grown up. Ruined by the Warehouse and its inability to protect her. Ruined by the evil, not hate, in her heart. And yet… she had loved. Jasmine Forbes had loved Pete Lattimer so desperately, but either way, love couldn't save her. Love couldn't save any of them, and that was the scariest thing to come from it. She was evil to the core, and yet evil could still find its way to love.

The astrolabe hadn't helped all those years ago… in the long run it had just changed things. Killed other people. Put a time delay on the end of the world.

His head swam and he risked a look down at himself, shaking at the sight of his legs so far away. Tears trickled down his face when he noticed Myka's body crumpled over Helena's. She was dead. Helena was still alive, but barely.

It wouldn't be long.

He looked around, knowing that the sudden headache and the nausea were because he was losing too much blood. He was glad he couldn't see Claudia, wherever she was. He sent a silent goodbye to each and every one of them, then closed his eyes and laid down his head.

At least they had tried. They'd gone out kicking and screaming. They'd gotten Jasmine to crumple to the ground, they'd seen that little bit of good in her, like they had with Sykes. But it was too late. Unlike Sykes, it was just far too late. They couldn't go back this time.

It wouldn't be fixed, and—

Artie paused, shifting his head. The metal clunk behind his ear sounded for the second time, and though he was losing a hell of a lot of blood, he wasn't senile. He was actually quite lucid.

He howled in pain as his arms moved, reaching behind his head and clutching the metal artifact in his hand.

It didn't get destroyed, but oh how Artie Nielsen wished it did. Because the joy and the hope suddenly blossoming from his chest was excruciating. Maybe, just maybe… it'd be okay.

"Richard Wallingford," he gasped. "This better be worth it."

Those thieving Turks. The old Warehouse guardian shook his head as he clutched abbot Richard Wallingford's clock in his palm, his thoughts thickly swimming around his already overwhelmed brain. Shaped very much like Magellan's astrolabe, the clock consisted of a star map which rotated behind a fixed rete, and when suspended from a human thumb by a ring at the top, observations could be made; the altitude of the sun by day or the moon at night.

All very straight forward, albeit the mathematical genius behind the instrument. Until, of course, Wallingford died and the clock was unfortunately unfinished.

Thereafter, William of Walsham continued working on the astrolabe and twenty long years later, the instrument was finally complete.

Artie mused as his eyes drooped from loss of consciousness that William must have worked so hard to turn things right that the clock had become an artifact.

And thus, instead of the clock being destroyed during Henry VIII's reformation and the dissolution of St Alban's Abbey in 1539, the clock was stolen or rather, tracked by warehouse agents. The Turkish agents of Warehouse 9 shipped it to Constantinople and brought the artifact to safety.

And yet…

Artie gripped the clock and spun the dial, blinking open his tired eyes to watch the spark of energy dash about his face and hands. And yet here it was.

Here it was indeed.

He gave the world one last painful smile and closed his eyes. Maybe hope still lived after all.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: **_Wow... okay, I didn't think I'd be back here so soon but this story idea just couldn't stop wriggling around in my head and eventually I had to sit down to get it out. This may well be the longest fanfic I will ever post... the concept is too long to get down in 15 chapters or less so be prepared for a long and confusing ride. Ships will be thrown about like confetti, but I am mainly sticking to Bering & Wells and Cleena. _

_Please let me know if you enjoy... I think I'm the most nervous I've ever been about posting a fic. _

**Chapter 1**

**oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox oxoxo**

Auburn hair scattered across a slightly soggy pillow as the incessant buzzing of a cell phone alarm rang. Its owner sunk further under the covers, stretching and whining at the sound.

It was too early. It had to be.

The woman in bed held still with a bated breath, thinking for a few minutes that she'd gotten away with it. But of course, as the clock turned from 5.59 to 6am, another alarm went off – this one silent. Streams of light shot down onto the bed and the four pillows, its source; a large globe suspended from the ceiling.

It was a wonderful invention at the best of the times; simulated sunshine with no need for curtains, or windows for that matter.

But now the temporarily blinded woman squirmed irritably and flailed around on the mattress.

It didn't last long though. For a second, Claudia Donovan thought she had a guardian angel when the pseudo-sun was put out, but then the bed dipped and she sighed, opening her arms wide for her morning snuggle.

A snuggle that didn't happen.

She pouted and blinked open her eyes. "We have a ping, darling," came the silky voice and the redhead sat up sulkily.

"Ping yourself."

The woman, clad in dark green slacks and a crinkled grey cotton shirt sat at the edge of the bed with a frown, clutching a cup of tea for her friend. "That's a euphemism I haven't heard before."

Claudia sniggered despite herself and took the tea, thinning her lips in appreciation. She took a sip and sighed, ruffling her sleep-mussed hair with her free hand.

She felt strange. Though truthfully, strange was possibly the biggest understatement of the century. She felt like she'd downed an entire bottle of tequila the night before, skinny dipped, then stepped in a sauna. Fuzzy, clouded bits of memory floated around in her brain and she assumed it was just because she was tired.

But that didn't stop the erratic beating of her heart telling her that something… something was a little off.

"Be ready to leave in ten minutes." Ms Wells said softly with an endearing smile.

"Mm-hmm," Claudia's noncommittal grunt echoed her. She scowled when the dark haired woman stood and grasped the edge of the caretaker's shirt sleeve.

"Hey…" she husked.

"Claudia…" The caretaker warned but one look into the chocolate eyes that nearly matched her own caused her to exhale in defeat. She sat down, swiped the hair away from Claudia's face and kissed the woman's forehead then the corner of her lips. "Pack light. We're going to Vancouver."

"Yes, ma'am." Claudia grinned, pointing over to a bra that had probably been flung the night before. Again, she couldn't be sure. She couldn't even remember getting to bed at all, let alone getting undressed.

Helena Wells rolled her eyes and handed the modestly cupped, purple bra over to its nude owner.

"You getting ready then?" Claudia smirked to herself, easing herself into the garment. Everything seemed to hurt today… maybe she _had_ overdone it on the liquor front. Ms. Wells' mouth had been open and she quickly shut it, straightening her back and clearing her throat.

"Eight minutes." The Englishwoman muttered, and scuttled off out of the younger woman's bedroom.

Both bedrooms suited each woman perfectly. It was one of the main reasons the Warehouse caretaker and guardian worked so well as a team. They were both geeks from separate centuries all together.

Helena was old. Claudia was new… and yet they worked together seamlessly. There would be nights, or…

Claudia paused, shaking her foggy mind irritably. She _thought_ she remembered nights when they'd both been so exhausted, so completely wiped out after a long night of inventing and tinkering that they'd fall into bed together and pass out in each other's' arms.

It wasn't proper, this kind of relationship between caretaker and guardian. But the Regents had to choose between a successfully running Warehouse or no Warehouse at all.

At the moment, though, they were severely understaffed. Pings were usually quite rare… but recently the duo had been rushed off their feet with nearly 3 pings a week. The rush of the missions combined with the jet lag was wearing the two women down.

And anyway, they shouldn't have been doing their own missions at all. That too was inappropriate for both caretaker and guardian but they were the best for the job.

Claudia had conjured up the safest security system for the warehouse known to man, while Helena invented various gadgets that helped with the upkeep of the enormous storage system they called home.

Claudia stretched and winced, rolling her neck and shoulders. "I need a holiday," she mused aloud, pulling a pair of boxers up her legs. "Maybe that's why I feel so weird," she mumbled.

"Vancouver," Helena's voice suddenly reminded from the communal kitchen. "Think of it as a holiday!"

Claudia rolled her eyes. "A holiday that doesn't involve getting whammied, and/or possibly killed!" She huffed, throwing various articles of clothing into her duffel bag.

"Claudia, my dearest," Helena lamented, throwing her voice to the other room, " if you're ready in three, I promise we'll go surfing afterwards, or whatever it is you kids do."

Claudia tried to continue her scowling session, but when Helena walked in with a rucksack on her back, flippers on her feet and a pair of goggles over her face, she lost all remnants of her sulky composure. "I'm partial to a little diving," Ms. Wells grinned excitedly.

The redhead sighed and looked at the ceiling, biting her lip to stop the fit of giggles bubbling up her throat. "So many dirty jokes, so little time," she wheezed.

"Exactly," the caretaker nodded, her own eyes twinkling. "So do come along, Miss. Donovan." She said haughtily and stuffed her goggles, swimfins and snorkel into her large rucksack. "Time to save the world."

And with that, Helena Wells re-shouldered her bag and disappeared out of the bedroom door.

Claudia rubbed her sore head, shaking it to rid herself of the foggy feeling that still remained. Her belly rumbled from not just from hunger but something else…

Something just didn't feel… right. Whatever it was, she knew she couldn't dwell on the reason. Not if it meant her precious surfing privileges being taken away. She heard Helena humming to herself by the umbilicus and smiled infectiously, then jogged out of the room to join her partner.

Time to save the world, indeed.


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: **_Apologies for the massive delay in this fic. I've been trying to get through a writer's block and hopefully this is the end of it. It'll still be confusing for a lot of you, but hopefully with this chapter the premise will start to make sense. _

On the plane to Vancouver, Ms. Wells had finally succumbed to Claudia's roguish charms. The private jet they occasionally used to fly around the continent was a little… old fashioned. The 1985 Hawker 800 flew like a dream though, and Claudia often sailed to sleep as soon as they were in the air.

Finally snuggled against Helena's chest, Claudia felt different today. She couldn't settle. And when her wriggling became too much for the caretaker, she cleared her throat and pushed Claudia away. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Claudia grouched, refusing to look into her friend's eyes.

When she made no move to seek out any more comfort, Helena blinked and frowned. "And I'm supposed to believe that..."

"Yes, so let's leave it." Claudia sighed, rubbing her forehead and turning away from the woman to look out of the window. "Ears are popping." she muttered. She heard rustling behind her and sighed, holding back the smile that came to her when a Werther's Original was put under her nose. She let out a long breath and turned to look at the woman whose eyes were full of concern and pulled her into a soft kiss. "Thank you."

Ms. Wells simply nodded, the frown never leaving her face. She watched her closely as Claudia unwrapped the candy and popped it into her mouth with a smile. "Something's the matter."

"Is it?" Claudia curled up in her seat, her head resting against the cushioned headrest.

"Is what?" Helena asked, confused.

Claudia stared at her. "Is something the matter? Or is it just me?"

"Darling," Helena began warily, placing the back of her hand on Claudia's forehead. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

The redhead hissed and pulled the woman's face to her, cupping each cheek within her palms. She stared openly into the caretaker's eyes, searching. Helena visibly paled and looked away, to which Claudia let go with a triumphant gasp. "You do."

"Admittedly," the Victorian held onto her chest to settle her breathing, "I felt rather odd this morning."

"When you woke up…" Claudia finished for her.

Helena peered at her for a moment then nodded. "Yes." She cleared her throat and sat up, rubbing the locket that settled against her clavicle.

"I woke up… I felt… like I'd had a little too much gin the night before."

"Mine was tequila." Claudia chirped.

Helena barely heard. "But we didn't drink last night."

_No… they hadn't. _

Claudia swallowed and stood up, pacing quickly. She'd gripped at her hair, twisting and curling it between her fingers as her mind warred with itself.

Helena just sat back and closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. She was a nervous flyer at the best of times, always had been. She'd seen the Wright Brothers all over the news in 1903 when their world's first ever human aircraft was a success. She marvelled over planes of all kinds. Took in their ever evolving beauty. Was inspired by the complex mechanisms of each and every plane that flew thousands of feet into the air.

But being inside one? No. That was too mindboggling even for her and soon she felt herself begin to panic.

Her mind brought her back to a time she remembered fondly, albeit fuzzily, and she smiled automatically.

_"Mummy, we'll be fine." _

_"Oh we will, will we?" Helena gave a nervous smile, her fingers clutching at her little girl's._

_The young girl couldn't have been older than fourteen, and she giggled and nodded, clutching her mother's hand tighter. "Yes, we will." _

_The quiet confidence from the teenager caused Helena to pause her panicking and she pulled her daughter against her, pressing a kiss to her head. "You're growing up too fast."_

_Christina chuckled and fiddled with the locket on her mother's chest. She was a little old for cuddling, but she knew it would at least calm her poor mother down. "You never did change your locket," she reminded. _

_Helena let out a wan smile and shook her head. "It's a lovely photograph. You have a wonderful smile."_

_Christina sighed against her mother's chest. "As long as it pleases you, mum."_

_"Oh it does, my love." Helena chuckled in that embarrassing parental way, smiling brighter when she heard the flustered "yugh" from her daughter. __"It does." She said, kissing the girl's forehead._

_"Oh it does, my love." Helena chuckled in that embarrassing parental way, smiling brighter when she heard the flustered "yugh" from her daughter. "It does." She said once more, kissing the girl's forehead._

"We've been whammied." Claudia's voice brought Helena back to the present pretty swiftly and she sat up, wide eyes staring at the source of sound. "I'm tellin' ya… we've been whammied."

Helena placed her hands into her lap. "And what makes you so sure?"

Claudia ticked it off of her fingers. "Fuzzy long term and short term memory, right? Check. No alcohol taken. General feeling of uneasiness. Check-"

"And how do you know we're not affected by some bizarre and rare illness?" HG had the decency to smirk. It seemed her daydream had calmed not only her fear of flying but also the strange situation she and Claudia had found themselves in. And watching the twenty-three year old flailing around was pretty endearing.

"You think this is funny," Claudia scowled, hand on hip and clearly owning her Princess Sass title.

"No, I don't." Helena took a shaky breath and stood up, walking to her lover.

Standing in a flying metal can was just not right.

She held Claudia's hips and sighed, wrapping her arms around and up until her fingers were playing in the younger woman's hair.

Claudia's eyes immediately closed and she pushed herself as close to Helena as she could. "You don't…?" she asked in a whisper.

"No." Helena kissed her softly. "But I do think we need rest. And I will buy the most expensive room available. How does that sound?"

"Heavenly," Claudia groaned and went in for another kiss but Helena pulled away quickly and went to sit back down. The grumble coming from the guardian went unheard as Helena redid her seatbelt, but Claudia looked up at the plastic ceiling of the plane, clenching her fists in frustration before joining and sitting next to her partner once more.

The plane landed two hours later with a spectacular bump. Helena readily sought out Claudia's hand, much to the young inventor's amusement. But instead of teasing, she lifted the Victorian's hand in her own, kissed the back of it, and finally released her seatbelt after downing the last of her orange juice. "See? We survived."

"Now who's being funny?" Helena sighed and rubbed at her forehead. They watched patiently as the plane came to a stop and gathered their things before leaving the aircraft.

Helena Wells had never been much of a bargain keeper. So Claudia wasn't too surprised when Helena did not, in fact, pay for the most expensive room in the hotel.

But at $235 a night for a standard room, she didn't do half bad. Claudia lay down with a smile on her face. The pillows were perfect. The mattress was even better than perfect. There was a Bose ipod dock to her left on the nightstand, and a dimming switch above her head that not only turned down the lights, but worked the curtains. "Ugh, just marry me why don't you?"

Helena looked up from the door to the bathroom and raised her eyebrow. "I think you'll find I require a ring for that." She said sniffily, "And anyway, your proposal was rather rude." She shouldered her purse and fit her Farnsworth inside, one hand on her hip.

She wasn't even sure why they carried Farnsworths anymore. It wasn't like they were easily separable. Nevertheless, they did, on occasion, lose each other from time to time so she guessed they weren't such a bad thing to carry around after all.

She looked at Claudia with a hopeless roll of the eyes. Claudia was barely awake, and to be fair to her, was desperately trying to sit up. "Are you coming?"

"Yes," Claudia whined, her eyes still closed. She exhaled loudly, and then catapulted her body upright to a standing position. "Jeez, it was a three hour flight."

"I know." HG wrapped an arm around the woman's shoulder. "But you always have been a confusing specimen." She kissed Claudia's cheek.

Claudia feigned outrage with a pinch to the woman's side, but let herself be guided out of the room. They had the world to save after all. She just wished her life wasn't so damn tiring all the time.

"What are you thinking?"

Claudia jumped despite the soft tone of the voice and sneered. "Quiet." She clenched her fists. Her eyes remained closed, and she stood quite still in the middle of the busy street in Kitsilano. Vancouver was the kind of city that Claudia felt welcome in. Laid-back coffee shops and trinket shops were scattered along roads. Surfers eating ice-cream on benches dotted along the sidewalks. It was a haven of sorts. But something was odd. Something just seemed…off.

Helena stayed silent and watched the woman with a steady gaze. When she brought up the courage, she spoke again. "Your senses are getting stronger."

Claudia's eyes slowly opened. "True… That, or things are getting worse."

Helena smiled tenderly. "Your pessimism definitely is."

The Warehouse guardian took in a deep breath and released it slowly, then nodded. "You have an address? Or you gonna make me guess where this place is?"

Helena looked down at the sheets of scanned newspaper in her hand and shuffled over to Claudia, keeping her voice down from sneaky passersby. "Café owner, Lucy Marton." She pointed at the blonde whose lips were painted a dark red. It was obvious even in the black and grey newsprint.

"Cute," Claudia grinned at the beautiful woman on the page. "And?"

"Running for mayor." Helena tapped her chin.

Claudia all but squawked at the bigoted sounding utterance, her mouth hanging open. "HG, come on. I know you're Victorian but-"

An eyebrow rose which halted Claudia's rant. "Are you questioning my feminism?" She giggled. Claudia simply gulped. Helena rolled her eyes. She didn't seem fazed, though, and continued speaking in a hushed tone. "She was homeless until 3 months ago. Suddenly she's got a successful café, seems financially stable. She is extremely popular here."

"Not surprised," Claudia traced the image with her finger. "She sounds amazing."

Helena snatched the newspaper article away. "Definitely suspicious. The café is…" She swiveled around and pointed to a building on the corner of the road. "Ah! There." A pretty light pink canopy hung above the coffee shop. It was dainty and rather old fashioned, but equally inviting. Claudia found herself already drawn to it and began to walk across the road. It took Helena a while to realize her best friend had vanished and she jogged off the sidewalk to catch up.

The guardian stood motionless at the door of the establishment. Her hand came up to trace the door handle as she watched the proprietor inside. Lucy certainly looked harried, dashing around the café, a pen resting behind her ear (just in case).

Helena watched Claudia closely, noting the redhead's nose pressed against the glass. She was acting more than a little strange. "Are you alright?"

"Hmm… what?" Claudia blinked and looked behind herself, now nose-to-nose with the Victorian author. "Yeah…" The younger woman brushed herself down. "Can you feel it?" She took a long, deep breath and shivered slightly when Helena chuckled against her neck.

"I'm not you, darling. I don't sense the artifacts."

"That's not what this i—" Claudia's argument died on her lips and she accepted her ability with a huff. "It's powerful, whatever she's got."

Helena nodded and brushed passed her friend. "Well then, we won't find out what it is if we're faffing out here, will we?" She turned to look at Claudia's face. "Focus, Claudia. Deep breaths. Whatever happened last night – we'll figure it out."

Claudia swallowed down the feeling of nausea and nodded, reaching out to quickly grasp her friend's hand. "Alright. Let's do this." And the two women walked straight in and up to the counter to "order some tea."

oxoxoxoxo

Poor old (or perhaps we should call it 'new') Time was confused. Time was unsettled and still reaching out, moving past oceans and remaking the world as it should have been. As it once was.

But things weren't quite the same, were they?

Time was now a thing, not a concept. A stressed, troubled, barely newborn sentient thing worrying about whether it had done its job well enough.

And it hadn't, as Warehouse guardian and caretaker would soon discover.

In another world, another lifetime, another story entirely, one Artie Nielsen had reset and rebirthed Time. That world had been chaos, as this one was now.

But this time, Time wasn't alone. Time had clever Warehouse agents, potential and current, scattered around the globe. They would help Time get better. They would fix the fate of the world. Unbeknownst to them, they were now the soldiers of Time. The guardians.

And soon, when everything was fixed, Time could rest and the world would once more feel right.

But for now, Time watched the two women investigate the coffee shop with a relieved conscience. Time would be fixed and healed.

All in good _time_.


End file.
